Joker Missing Scenes
by alocin
Summary: The Dark Knight. Two and a half hours long but not nearly enough of the Joker; just some thoughts about what might have been happening when the scene was elsewhere.
1. Party Preparations

Notes: I read a review of the Dark Knight that said the Joker was such a presence that whenever he wasn't in a scene the viewer missed him. I certainly agree. Just my thoughts on what the Joker might have been up to when the scene was focused elsewhere.

Part one: before the fundraising shindig.

--

The light above the cracked mirror was dull, and grime coated the stained basin beneath. Not exactly the Ritz. But, he told himself, that's what you get when you arrange for low calibre henchmen to find rooms from landlords that take cash and don't ask questions. He wasn't bothered by the surroundings anyway, not when he was getting all dolled up ready to go to the social event of the year. He took special care in applying his exaggerated smile, tracing the red greasepaint along the bumpy, uneven surface of his scars.

'Not every day you get invited to a hoity-toity party thrown by Mr Bruce "Playboy" Wayne himself,' he told his reflection, pursing his lips to check the coverage. 'Not that we're strictly "invited" of course. But those do-gooder charitable types are all so boring, and every good party needs some entertainment!'

He wondered whether he should bring a few of his toys to demonstrate to Dent's little high society followers. Guns were useful but rather lacking in style – he'd prefer to leave them to the hired help. Maybe something more explosive? He spent a pleasant moment imagining what fun it would have been to smuggle some devices in with the catering. Exploding canapés! Corrosive cocktails! But it was too late for that now. He'd have to settle for his usual methods of persuasion if the do-gooders were reluctant to give up their new "White Knight".

The Joker checked the many pockets of his purple suit coat, brushing his fingers lightly across the variety of blades he liked to carry stashed on his person. Sure he could only use one or two at a time, but he didn't want to pick a favourite and make the others feel left out. 'I love all my jagged little razor-sharp children equally.' He announced to them 'You know I do.' He shot a quick glance around to check no one was watching and pulled a short knife from his right pocket. It appeared to be a modified vegetable peeler, worn down from being sharpened along both edges. The Joker lowered his voice and whispered as he cradled it close to his painted mouth, tongue darting out as if to lick the edges of the blade. 'Shh – don't tell the others, keep it secret… but I love you the most. We've been through so much, you and I, from the very beginning…'

He was rudely interrupted by a cough from the direction of the corridor. One of the more bold of his new henchmen; one that actually had the balls or just the slow-witted stupidity to be willing to disturb him when he was having a private conversation with a very sharp implement, appeared in the doorway of the grungy bathroom.

'We just got the call boss – Dent's arrived at the party, with his girl.'

The Joker's grin widened, stretching his scars as he spun on his heel to face the nervous looking thug. 'That means it's time for the fun to begin!' He replaced his favourite knife back in the safety of his coat pocket. 'Bring the van around and get everybody masked up.' The man nodded and stumbled in his haste to disappear back down the corridor.

Tie properly adjusted, coat brushed down, faded half-dyed hair brushed back with his now gloved hands; the Joker was ready for his big entrance. None of the clown-masked thugs were willing to fight him for the front passenger seat of the van. Calling shotgun while holding a loaded weapon of the same name was enough to convince them they would travel best in the back of the van out of the way of their new boss.

As the city lights flashed by the Joker couldn't help feeling disappointed that he wasn't in three places at once to see all three schemes come together. Reading about it in the paper the next day, or even seeing footage on the news just couldn't come close to smelling the smoke of the explosion, feeling the terror in the air and hearing the last gasps. He lived for those electric moments, when the fear of others set the blood coursing through his veins.

Dent better put up a fight, he thought, stroking the barrel of the shotgun and absentmindedly getting far to close to the trigger for the nerves of the driver sitting next to him, the same nervy guy as before. The man fidgeting and sweating behind his clown mask couldn't distract the Joker from his thoughts of what was to come. Not that he wanted the Golden Boy of Gotham dead yet, of course – that boy had such places to go! But it would be so much more fun if there was a struggle along the way. He even dared to hope that Batman might have heard about the plan and turn up at the party for a couple of canapés himself. That would be delicious…

'This is it.' The driver said as he mounted the kerb outside the Wayne building, interrupting the Joker from his thoughts again for the second time that evening. The man clearly had a death wish the Joker felt he would be satisfying before the night was out if these interruptions kept up. As the van came to a halt the back doors swung open and the thugs piled out like a circus act with a strangely large clown car. They burst through the doors of the tower building with guns drawn, their leader following a few steps behind with a grin on his face. The security guards at the front desk were soon dispensed with, and a cop the Joker recognised from Lieutenant Gordon's little Dream Team stopped as he blindly walked through the main doors. Honestly the Joker almost felt insulted; Gordon had evidently deciphered his little DNA threat and only bothered to send one cop to protect the White Knight he held so dear?

While waiting for an elevator to open and whisk them up to the party he decided to have a few quiet words with Detective Wuertz. He could smell the rotten core within the man as clearly as he smelt the fear emanating from beneath the cop's cheap suit; this one was in Maroni's pocket for sure. And he had several spare pockets of his own if the man didn't mind sitting alongside some rather sharp implements. It never hurt to have a good working relationship with a few of Gotham's finest.

The elevator finally came and they all piled in, leaving one man to guard the entrance now dressed in a recently spare and only slightly bloodstained security uniform. The Joker bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he whispered each floor number that passed by on the screen above the doors. He could feel the excitement growing as he got ever closer, trying to focus on there here and now while his mind was so eager to ponder what might be happening across town and at City Hall. No, no, no – Dent first, he was the key piece at had to be properly set up on the board. No use focusing on the pawns being blown up like battleships! The chequers pieces already taken and going directly to jail, not passing Go.

As he fondled his favourite knife with a gloved hand he heard the sirens inside his head start to grow in pitch... he was ready.

The elevator pinged, doors sliding open to match the wide red grin on the face within.

'We made it.'


	2. Going Down Town

Notes: another missing scene, and one I would have greatly liked them to include in the film even if it didn't quite happen like this! I wouldn't have said no to all sorts of handcuff and frisking-related activities...

Part two: between Gordon's miraculous recovery from being pretty dead and the Joker being securely stationed within a holding cell.

--

'Can you please just give me a minute?'

The shotgun was jabbed firmly into the back of his neck. Honestly, some people were so rude. Why couldn't they wait their turn? He was very clearly occupied attempting to de-mask a comatose Batman without getting what looked like a pretty incapacitating electric shock. Did he look like he was free for a quick chat?

The Joker shifted his knife away from the neck of his prize as he turned to see who was so insistent on getting his attention. A shove sent him sprawling off balance as he was confronted by the insufferable, always so boringly earnest face of Lieutenant Gordon. Well that was unexpected.

'We got you, you son of a bitch.' Gordon growled, keeping the gun aimed squarely at the chest of the man sprawled on the floor.

'You know I do seem to recall shooting you.' The Joker muttered almost to himself as Gordon kicked his knife away; thankfully it wasn't his favourite one. He shifted on the uneven concrete as he gazed mockingly up at the detective. 'You are a tricky little policeman, aren't you.'

With a click and a whir the springs and cogs in his brain had already started to process what this meant for his plots and schemes. He would never admit to having A Plan of course. Plans are for dullards who couldn't see the beauty in the a bit of random anarchy. But you can't just throw dominoes randomly at a barrel of gasoline and hope one will set it off; to get proper chaos you had to set the dominoes just right in front of the detonator switch. Then with a little push they would do the work for you. He decided that the sudden reappearance of this domino would just make the inevitable self-driven collapse all the more satisfying.

A veritable flock of SWAT personnel suddenly descended on the scene along with half of Gotham's remaining police force. The Joker mused how just a little matter like chasing a DA in a police van across half the city with a couple of trucks and the odd bazooka could grab everyone's attention. He loved this crazy city with its populace that had such taste for explosions. He just hoped they weren't too full yet – he had a full menu planned and there were several more courses to come. But first it was time to make his new guards lighten up a bit.

The new arrivals seemed only too keen to take over from the recently revived Lieutenant Gordon in gun-pointing duty, but were curiously reluctant to actually touch the costumed man on the floor in front of them. His twisted, painted face seemed to grin mockingly at them even as he lay still with his eyes shut, as if he had just decided to lie down in the street and take a nap. The beginning of quiet snoring noises were enough for Gordon.

'Alright; come on now. We're not having any of your games.'

'Just five more minutes, Mom.' The purple-suited figure muttered, rolling over slightly. His thumb snaked its way towards his painted mouth in grotesque imitation of a sleeping child. A few of the cops looked at each other in confusion across their raised guns. This was the guy who had masterminded several vicious public murders, and just taken out half the task force assigned to transport a vital prisoner?

Gordon didn't want to waste time. He motioned for help from the Sergeant of the first SWAT team, and between the two of them they dragged the Joker into a roughly upright position.

'Is it time for school already?' He rubbed his eyes with gloved hands. 'I want waffles. Unless you've got Fruit Loops. Nothing like starting the day with a bowl of sugar and colourings. It made me in the man I am today!'

-

Instead of waffles or cereal he received a stony silence as his hands were cuffed in front of him. His temporary new friends seemed a depressingly humourless bunch. He also noted that the formerly rather unconscious body of his favourite Flying Rodent seemed to have disappeared. Naughty Batman wouldn't have been in on Gordon's little plan as well, would he? He raised his assessment of his opposite number one higher and awarded him a gold star for sneakiness in playing possum. This was going to be even more of a challenge if Batsy kept up the good work. He chuckled internally and almost vibrated with suppressed excitement at all the fun to come.

They abandoned the attempt to frisk him when they came across the fifth knife, which sliced open the palm of the cop unsqeamish enough to volunteer for the task of patting him down. The others still seemed reluctant to touch him. He clucked in mock sympathy as the injured man hissed and cradled his wounded hand to his chest, blood dripping like glistening jewels against his navy uniform. The Joker thought it beautiful, and had a sudden urge to put a matching ruby smile on the officer's face.

Gordon returned from letting Dent in on the good news to find an ashen faced officer clutching his bleeding hand and a nervous looking SWAT team holding their guns just a little bit too tight, as the smudged and dishevelled clown in front of them gazed dreamily at the drying blood. He shook his head in tired resignation. 'We can finish this back at the station where there's better light. Just load him in the van; he's handcuffed and has nowhere to go. I'll ride in the back with him and make sure there's no funny business.'

The Joker tutted as the officers moved him towards the vehicle. 'Now Lieutenant, how boring a journey it would be if there was no fun.' He didn't resist but didn't cooperate either, and they had to bodily lift him into the back of the van. Their movements were clumsy and he could sense they were afraid of him. He allowed himself a small chuckle that he could still inspire fear even when he was handcuffed and supposedly harmless.

His painted face remained expressionless while they reposition his handcuffs through a fixing on the side of the van. As they clambered out, Gordon climbed in and took a seat on the thin metal bench fixed to the floor on the other side of the vehicle from the Joker who was humming something tuneless while staring at the ceiling. The doors were shut and bolted from the outside before the van pulled away. He gave a deep sigh and shut his eyes. Finally he could be done with this charade and see his family again. Then the tuneless humming abruptly stopped.

'Well then, what do you say to a game of Eye-Spy?'

-

Gordon opened his eyes and stared at the man sitting across from him. 'What?'

'Eye-Spy. Or Twenty Questions. Something. But I prefer Eye-Spy. Let's see, I'll go first – I spy with my little eye, something beginning with… S.'

'I'm not playing games with you.'

'Why not?' The Joker pouted, looking suddenly like a petulant child. 'This is going to be a very dull trip if you're not willing to join in. Are you just afraid you'll lose?' His face suddenly twisted again and his grin widened to become mocking. 'Or maybe that I'll somehow gain a deep understanding of your psychological makeup from a simple word game and use it to expose your deepest weaknesses before eating your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti?' He hissed between his teeth but soon bent forward in collapsed, breathless giggles. Regaining control and panting slightly he grinned across at the Lieutenant. 'Just lighten up will ya!'

Gordon unsuccessfully tried to keep a composed expression in the face of this sudden outburst. He decided that the twisted man before him evidently craved attention and decided not to give him the pleasure of responding. The Joker, for his part, knew that it was always just a case of experimenting until he found the right buttons to push. He tapped his toes up and down experimentally, as if testing the water for temperature.

'So how far did you take this little faking-your-death scheme then, hmm? How serious were you. Did you go the whole nine yards; did they send a condolence card to your wife?' The Joker spotted the sudden stab of pain in Gordon's eyes and brought out the mock sympathy again, clucking.

'Oh, oh deary. Did you really go to all that trouble just for little old me? You shouldn't have! I mean really; think of the pain your poor wife and kiddy-winks must have gone through, thinking you dead. Tut tut. Then you're going to turn up and say "Sorry – it was all a big lie! I'm not really dead!". Now that's the sort of thing that can really screw a kid up.' He leaned closer to the Lieutenant, conspiratorially. 'I should know. Keep an eye on that boy of yours; you wouldn't want him turning out like me.'

Gordon wanted so much to wipe the smeary, sardonic grin from the face before him that he could taste it. 'I'm not going to give you what you want; a nice set of black eyes your mob lawyer can take to a judge to get you out of those cuffs by lunchtime. You can talk all you want, but I'm not biting.'

'Spoilsport. And as if I'd like to leave your charming and witty company so soon.' He drawled, sarcasm evident, then resumed humming tunelessly to himself.

Gordon hoped that he might make it the last couple of blocks without any more comments from the clown. He would be much happier when they were both within the familiar and solid walls of the MCU. He gave a short smile as he wondered whether the Joker would be so cocky when he was securely in a holding cell with a few of Gotham's more volatile and less civilized residents. Maybe after a few hours he'd change his tune and become a bit more cooperative, ready for Harvey Dent to deal with in the morning. Now that was going to be a talk Gordon would enjoy watching from behind the two-way mirror; Gotham's White Knight against this twisted terrorist-for-hire. He didn't give the clown good odds.

-

A short while later the Joker was standing irritably next to the booking desk while a ham-fisted custody officer went through the pockets of his coat, which he had recently been divested of.

"…another knife, and another, and…' the man pulled the modified vegetable peeler '…whatever the hell this is.'

'It's a knife, genius. And be careful with it – I'll be wanting it back shortly.'

The custody officer raised an incredulous eyebrow. 'Sure you will – because they're good that like at Arkham, letting the crazies keep their weapons.'

'I'm not crazy.' It came out as slightly more of a threatening growl than he had planned, causing the two officers on either side of him to tighten their grips on his arms. He decided he'd better lighten the tone again. 'Do you mind? You're cutting off the blood supply to my hands here. They're getting all tingly.' He waggled his now glove-less fingers to demonstrate.

'Get started on the rest of the processing and take two sets of prints to be sure.' Gordon instructed the officers. 'I need to get the mayor on the phone.'

'You mean you're not coming to sit with me while I get my picture taken?' The Joker shouted over his shoulder as he was led down the corridor. 'Got better places to be, Lieutenant? I'm insulted.'

Twenty minutes later Gordon had one even more smeary-looking Joker locked securely in a holding cell, two complete sets of very ordinary looking prints and some pretty unusual mugshots.

Gordon turned to the Sergeant he had tasked with the processing. 'Why is he still wearing that makeup?'

The burly looking man shuffled his feet slightly. 'Well, to be honest sir he was pretty dead-set on not washing it off himself. We tried holding him down but after the officer with the sponge nearly lost a finger we thought it was best left until the tranqs kick in.'

Gordon sighed and looked at the man sat calmly in the cramped cell. 'He might be staying like that for a while then; he's not having as much as a Tylenol until the DA has a chance to talk to him.' The passive face stared silently back with its permanent mocking grin. If he had been so inclined Gordon could almost have imagined that the faded and smudged clown looked like the cat that had got the cream; like he was just where he wanted to be. The detective shook his head and narrowed his gaze, only to see a clearly deranged and very securely locked up killer once more. The Joker continued to sit passively and observe the goings-on outside his cell.

The mayor chose that moment to arrive to see both the newly resurrected head of his major crimes unit and the man who had put his premature obituary in the newspaper.

'Gordon! Back from the dead?'


End file.
